Carry This Picture
by Whitelighter Enchantress
Summary: Vaughn gives Sydney a picture. One parter.


**Carry This Picture**

A/n: This one-parter was inspired by the song _Carry This Picture_ by Dashboard Confessional. It takes place a couple months after _Welcome to Liberty Village_. G-rated songfic. I hope you enjoy it, and please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias (JJ), nor the song _Carry This Picture _(DC).

_Carry this picture for luck_

_kept in a locket, tucked in your collar_

_close to your chest._

She always falls asleep first. I know because I won't let myself fall asleep until she does. After the mission in Russia, that crazy one with the "American" suburban neighborhood, she started sleeping better, deeper, sounder. Neither of us slept terribly pleasantly before that point. Part of her peaceful slumber may have been due to Sloane's sudden string of missions– one raging after another– and she just needed the extra shut eye. But lately I've noticed she hasn't been sleeping so well. Maybe I'm just paranoid because I worry about her too much, but… All right, it _really_ worries me. Tonight she's been tossing and turning like a maniac, something must be on her mind.

"Syd?" I ask into her shoulder. She hums back in response, pretending to feel deeply exhausted. That little liar, I know her too well. "What are you thinking about?"

She rolls over onto her opposite shoulder, just as I hoped she would do. Instantly I get the pleasure of her angelic face glowing in the dim light. "Nothing," she says, her tone revealing her obvious state of non-sleepiness. "Go back to sleep."

"Not until you do." She realizes that I know her too well. She knows she's trapped and cannot possibly win this. I wrap my arm around her body, my fingers slipping under the hem of her pink tank top, and I stroke her back in gentle oscillations. "Syd?" I try again.

She hesitates, planning her words in noble defeat. "Work has been stressful lately. I keep catching myself wondering what life would be like without APO or the CIA. Have you ever wondered if we'll have a day when we'll wake up and not have to work?"

Her voice is low and wary, startling me slightly. And yes, I have wondered. Before each mission, I think what if I didn't have to do this? What if I had something more to focus on? Then I shake my head and perform my task, because there is no greater focus, this is my life.

She continues. "I mean, will we live like this forever? Working for some man I don't even trust? Vaughn, what if we never get to know what normal is? Will we have a day when we have nothing to worry about but getting the kids to school on time?"

This is much more serious than I thought. I lean up on my elbow, pulling my arm from around her momentarily to flip on the bedside lamp. She misses my warm embrace and snuggles against my bare chest as I move to sit against the headboard. This time when I look down at her angelic face, its beauty is shrouded by threatening tears. As I stroke her hair back, I realize how much time has passed since her smile has truly graced her face. That full on, dimpled, adorable smile that makes me weak in the knees hardly appears anymore.

"Will you promise me something?" I ask her very suddenly; she stares back up at me, waiting to hear my grand machinations. "Close your eyes. Picture us, happy, buying a new house. Picture us, painting all the rooms together. Picture us, holding our new little baby in our house that we painted. Picture us, playing with our two, three, four kids in the backyard and admiring the baby outside our house that we painted together. Are you picturing that?" She nods, ever so slightly. Her eyes are shut so tightly, as if the image will fly away if they flutter open by mistake. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips; I pray for the dimples. "Never let go of that picture, Sydney, that is our future. Promise me you'll carry this picture with you whenever you're down, and know that day will come."

"I promise," she whispers, her eyes still snugly shut, scared to lose the precious image. I'm scared she'll lose it too, and I cannot let that happen. Truthfully, I doubt that day will come. With our jobs, our lives… The future looks bleak. But it's important for her to keep faith; hope and love are all I can give to her.

Now she's asleep, never having reopened her eyes. I reach over and turn off the light; my eyes readjust to the darkness, and I formulate a plan while I drift off myself.

Make it a secret shown to the closest friends… 

So the next morning I head to Sloane's office with an ultimatum: give us a vacation or we'll quit. He actually says yes right away, I had planned on arguing our case further. But now we have an entire week APO free, and I plan to start tonight. I spend most of my time at work making phone calls, arranging everything to perfection. I drop a note on Sydney's desk before leaving early, I need a brief shopping detour. The message is simple, she'll understand.

_Meet me at quarter to seven,_

_the sun will still shine then_

_at this time of year._

We rendezvous back at her place, and she's immensely curious as to what my plans are. "What's going on…?" she trails off, spying me with the car keys in one hand and a blindfold in the other.

"We're taking a little vacation, is all," I reply, not bothering to conceal my smirk. I chase her around the apartment until I'm able to tackle her on the couch and secure the bandana over her eyes. Carrying her to the car proves to be a bit more of a challenge, seeing as she will not stop giggling, a contagious epidemic my throat seems to catch.

Once we're in the car and driving away she inquires, "So where are you whisking me off to, Mr. Vaughn?" I'm amazed she hasn't even tried to remove the blindfold yet. Good girl.

"It's a secret," I reply, feeling slightly like a child on the playground at recess.

Along the way she pesters me for hints of our destination, but I don't budge. I'm sure by now she has smelled the food from the picnic basket I stowed in the back, but she doesn't let on that she knows. The true nature of a spy. I speed down the highways and she continues to hound me with questions, most of which I choose not to answer.

Finally we arrive, and she is giddy with excitement when the car stops. I help her out of the car, eager for her to view the stunning sight before us. We arrived at the perfect time. When I slip the bandana down to her neck her face lights up, and I cherish the rare dimpled smile. "Santa Barbara," she whispers to me through her smile.

We'll head to the inlet 

_and we'll share a bottle there._

The radiant sun is just beginning its descent into the sky, and layers of purple and pink slowly outline her figure before the beach ahead of us. I grab the picnic basket as quickly as I can and we walk hand in hand down the beach.

It's so extraordinary to see Sydney this happy, I'm glad she's enjoying this. She catches me staring at her; another smile. "I love you," I tell her, halting our trek for a moment to kiss her.

"I love you, too," she replies when we break apart, her form the focus of an illumination of blues, pinks, and oranges, but nothing in comparison to the smiling form itself.

_And color the coast with your smile,_

_it's the most genuine thing_

_I've ever seen._

_I was so lost,_

_but now I believe._

We meander further down the sandy pathway, occasionally hearing the sounds from touristy stores and cottages just beyond the hill to our left. The music of the water lapping on the shore resounds in my ears. We round the bend, and she gapes at the boats we near.

The marina is full and lively: children chase each other about the maze of docks, couples chat and sip at drinks, the old men sit in folding lawn chairs with their fishing poles cast into the endless blue ocean. Sydney's eyes wander up the tall masts as I lead her down a particular aisle. I stop her in front of a thirty foot motor boat, she eyes it with uncertainty. "What's this?" she asks.

"This," I say, "is the boat I've rented us for the evening." I rub the silver railing and slide my fingers down to the light blue paint. "It's called the Wind Wench. Come on." I lift the basket over the stern rail and climb over it myself. I turn around and offer my hand to Sydney, which she graciously accepts, and I pull her aboard.

And follow me south of the big docks 

_where they tether the boats_

_the rich men revere._

_They're so important,_

_they hire our fathers to steer._

I situate Sydney on the front deck before throwing open the hatch, jumping down into the boat's interior. Inside, there is a small kitchen area, bathroom smaller than most linen closets, and of course, the bedchamber. I grab a soft red blanket from the bed and return to my love.

The sun sets slowly at a relaxed pace rather than a lazy one. Sydney lays the blanket down and I get us moving, and soon we skid with ease over the water. Reflecting white sparks twinkle at me and I squint into the orange ember in the sky; darkness devours the sky behind us, and I wish we could chase after the sun forever.

Sydney beckons me longingly; I've been away too long. I slow the boat down and toss over the anchor. When I return, she pulls my fingers to her level and my body follows smoothly. We break open the picnic basket and commence a feast. She pours us two glasses of a dark wine amidst our meal, and the chilled liquid slides down my throat insatiably. I watch her lips lingering on her glass, an unintentionally seductive maneuver. I must kiss her. Our wine cast aside hastily, our mouths dance a while longer before we push the basket to our feet and wrap ourselves in the blanket.

"What's all this for, Vaughn?"

"You," I answer simply. "I thought it was time for a vacation." She nods, leaning her head back onto my shoulder and sighing contentedly.

We watch the sun fall, fall, fall away, the darkness creeping closer. The clouds overhead reflect the colors of the sky, deep swirls among the layers. Water caresses the boat soothingly, it's spell cast over Sydney who relaxes completely in my arms. I stroke her soft skin as the edge of the sun skims over the distant water, I'm not ready for it to leave yet.

"There's something I want to give you," I tell her, scooting the basket within proximity and reaching inside. Her gaze on me is a curious one, and I pull out a long rectangular box wrapped in leftover Christmas wrapping paper.

I hand her the slender box and she tears the red paper with intrigued delight. Inside is a sleek black box, she lifts the lid and smiles at the box's contents. "Vaughn…" she muses sweetly, her smile beaming in competition with the sun. A gold chain loops around her fingers as she pulls the necklace from the box's grasp, a heart shaped locket dangling from it's center.

"It's kind of cliché, I know," I admit freely, "but after last night I wanted you to have something to hold onto that picture. Look, I had it engraved. One side says 'future,' the other says 'love.'" Now the picture can't escape her, it will stay locked in the depths of her heart, a smoldering fire kindled by our love.

"Thank-you." She rotates her body around to hug me, and I edge my back to the deck so she lies on top of me; I wrap the blanket tighter around us. She uncoils the chain from around her fingers and drops it into my hands. I hook it around her neck.

The locket dangles down, tickling my throat. "So do you like it?"

She looks at me as if I'm insane, did I really just ask her that? "I love it," she assures me.

_And down to the edge of the water_

_where we'll spill our guts_

_and we'll name our fears,_

_I'll give you this picture_

_keep it and don't be scared._

I return to a sitting position, leaning against the cabin with Sydney scooped in my arms on my lap. The blanket keeps us comfortably held together; I decide I'm ready for the sun to cascade away. Thankfully, the darkness hasn't taken over the sky completely. There remains still a pink haze drifting over the orange silhouette in the ocean. Normally, it's beauty would captivate me, however, I'm with Sydney, and it pales in comparison.

She looks genuinely happy for a change, all because I handed her a dream she can cling to, a hope she can hold in her hand. In fact, that is exactly what she does: holds her hand against her chest, rubbing the locket with her thumb.

"I tried to open it, but I couldn't get it open."

She attempts, and no such luck. "That's okay. I don't want it too." I can tell she means it.

She leans her forehead against mine, her breath softly grazing my cheek. She leans in for a series of short and delicate kisses. When she pulls away, she shows off that smile of hers, and I just have to reach my fingers up to touch her face. I can't imagine life without that smile, I need to see that smile everyday.

Darkness envelops us like another blanket as realization after realization dawn on me. Without her and her smile, I am nothing. My love for her overwhelms me, my trust in her is so pure, and she… She is my everything. Sure, I gave her the locket to carry the picture of our future, but what about now? Right now, this epoch of our lives, this exact moment in time? I want that picture in my hands. I want to never see a day without Sydney and her smile.

"Marry me," I whisper into her ear, my fingers still trailing her face.

She lifts her hands, taking mine from her cheeks; she grips them tightly and kisses my knuckles. "Yes," she whispers back. "Yes!"

We fall back to the deck, swept away in our passion. She kisses me through a constant smile, and I wouldn't have it any other way. And that picture that I just gave to Sydney moments ago… I can already see it in my hands, framed on my desk at work, watching the scene play out before my eyes. I see our house, I see our kids, I see our future. Now I believe in it.

_And color the coast with your smile,_

_it's the most genuine thing_

_I've ever seen._

_I was so lost,_

_but now I believe_

_in the coast,_

_your smile is the most genuine thing_

_I've ever seen._

_I was so lost_

_but now I believe._

_Now I believe._

_Now I believe._

_Now I believe._

Fin


End file.
